Chapter 8
“Ican’t believe you got a dog,” Gage murmured as he pulled up another screen on the bank of them he’d set up in the guest room of the three-story manor they were all staying in.
In addition to Gage and Rowan, Tiago, Ezra, Hailey and her husband Jesse, who wasn’t actually part of the company, were here for this op. But Jesse had used this as an opportunity to close on some property he’d been looking at, including the fully furnished house they were staying in. They’d all made it in record time because they’d taken his jet as well, so win-win for everyone. Reese and Cash were on vacation, and though Adalyn was disappointed not to see her friends, she was glad they were missing this.
The mansion had six bedrooms, five and a half bathrooms and, according to her sister, was Italianate in style—a Victorian style with Italian roots. It was all about symmetry, ornate details, rounded arches in windows and doorways, and the double sweeping staircase was the centerpiece of the place. Though the huge columns that supported the wide front porch were pretty impressive too. Her sister had majored in art and minored in architecture and could tell anyone anything about most of the buildings in the historic city.
“I can’t believe I got a dog either.” She sat next to Gage and looked at the list he’d curated. “That’s really good, but add Mark Beale and Stuart St. James. They’re from off-the-books jobs, and while they absolutely shouldn’t know about me, they should be on it.”
“Nine serious names. That’s not too bad.”
She shot him a sideways glance.
“I’m just saying, when you consider all the jobs you’ve ever done and weigh that against this list, you’re doing well on the enemy to op ratio.” Gage nodded as if that made perfect sense.
And she found herself grinning even as she scrubbed a hand over her face. “All right, Mr. Silver Lining. Tell me what you’ve got. Anything. How about the name of the asshole who texted me?”
He pulled up another screen, this one a video feed from last night. Jesus, was it only last night? “No name yet, and that phone has been definitely ditched. Or at least I can’t get a ping from it. I almost guarantee our guy ditched it minutes after sending you the message. It pinged off a tower that covers most of the Quarter so there’s almost no chance I figure out the owner that way. But…” He pulled up a handful of other screens. “Going on what your sister has from her security cameras and the time he killed her friend, I’ve been able to piece together the path the killer took after leaving her place. It ends in a parking garage and there’s no video of him coming out that I can find. Which could mean anything as this garage has two entrances on separate city streets. He could have left in different clothing or stowed away in someone’s car. Or…anything. I never got his face, not really, just his clothing. So that’s all I had to go on. I wish I had more.”
“You’re a rock star,” she murmured. “Seriously, this is impressive.” She eyed the pieced-together feed, knowing that while it looked seamless how each frame jumped to a new one at a new angle, this took serious talent. The kind a handful of people possessed.
“And that’s why I love having you at the company. Finally someone appreciates me.” He sniffed slightly, looking pleased with himself.
“Literally everyone appreciates your skills.”
“I know. I just wanted to hear you say it. So how’s your sister doing?”
“Okay-ish. I honestly don’t know. She’s good at compartmentalizing stuff.” Adalyn was too, thanks to their childhood. You had to compartmentalize to survive. Fleur had offered to wash the dog—who her sister was now calling Gumbo—while Adalyn met with Gage.
“How are you doing?” He turned away from the bank of screens, the afternoon light streaming into the second-story room the real estate agency had staged as an office.
“Exhausted,” she said honestly. Because she was running on fumes. “I need a couple hours of rack time if I’m going to function at all.”
He nodded. “Of course. Take it. And your sister should too. You’ve given us a lot to go on and if we have questions about any of the suspects, we’ll find you.”
“Thanks. I—” She glanced down as she received another incoming text. From another unknown phone number. “No,” she growled in disbelief as she read the message. “This is from him.”
Tick, tick boom.Even as she pressed play on the incoming video, there was a hint of a rumble from somewhere.
“What the hell?” Gage demanded.
“He just blew up an old church,” she said numbly as she held out her phone. “Ah…it used to be a school, a Catholic one. Both my sister and I attended. It’s abandoned now, as far as I know. But I heard that they might be renovating it and turning it into some sort of historical landmark.” Which in New Orleans, you couldn’t throw a rock without hitting a landmark so it took a lot to be considered one.
Gage let out another string of curses before he turned back to his computer. “Get Tiago and Rowan up here now.”
She hurried from the room as his fingers flew across his keyboard, found the two men in the kitchen talking quietly. “Gage needs you both.” Then she went to find her sister, found her on the covered porch in the backyard stretched out on one of the lounge chairs with a clean and fluffy Gumbo curled next to her. There was a wall for privacy, a norm in certain parts of the city.
Fleur sat up, earning a grumbly snuffle from the dog. “Have you found out anything new?”
“Ah, no. Not yet. But would you mind hanging out inside? Just for my piece of mind,” she added. “I just need you inside.” Where drones couldn’t pick up her face. She kept that to herself, knowing the likelihood of it was slim. But again, she had no clue who she was up against and desperately needed her sister to be safe.
“Of course. And you need some sleep.” Her sister frowned as she stood, the dog trotting along with her as they both moved inside.
“I will, promise.” Later, it seemed after what had just happened. She hurried back up to the second floor to find Gage, Tiago and Rowan all discussing the recent explosion.
“Fire department is on the way,” Gage said as she entered, nodded once at her. “I need you two on-site acting as civilians,” he said to Rowan and Tiago.
Adalyn stepped forward. “I’m going too—”
“No way.” Gage shook his head even as the other two hurried out, completely ignoring her.
“If our guy is there—”
“Then you put yourself and your team in danger. So far he doesn’t know you’re working with a team. Or I doubt he does. Because the more I think about it, and after doing a deep dive on you, I’m guessing that whoever is behind this couldn’t figure out where you’re living. It’s why he targeted your sister. Or attempted to. He wanted to bring you to New Orleans. So we’re not going to deliver you right into his arms. Trust me to know what I’m doing. And Hailey will say the same thing so don’t even think of asking her. You need some sleep because you look ready to pass out. You’ll do no good to anyone like this.”
She wanted to argue with him, but also knew he was right. “Fine.” That was about all she was going to give as she stalked from the room.
As she passed by Rowan’s bedroom, saw him slipping a sidearm underneath his jacket, she stepped into his bedroom. The jacket covered up all his tattoos as well, which could be used as an identifier, and his beard would make it difficult for any facial recognition software to ping him. Not that anyone should be looking for him, but she was feeling paranoid at the moment. “I know you’re smart, and trained, but be safe. If for some reason this guy saw you leaving Fleur’s place and then puts it together that you’re connected to me… Just be careful.”
He nodded as he zipped up his plain brown jacket, looking less like the goofball from before who’d been wearing all that Mardi Gras gear. “Always, darlin’.”
She wanted to tell him not to call her darlin’, but simply stepped out of his room, intending to tell her sister what was going on.
And to get some sleep while she could. Because despite what Gage might think, she wasn’t going to be sidelined with this. No way.